


hey what do we title this

by ladydawn, somethingsintheair



Series: bro chats with Sung and Meouch [1]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Bonding, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, conversations about scars, vague hints at angsty things that no one's posted anything about yet, we'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydawn/pseuds/ladydawn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Meouch and Sung have a heart-to-heart bro chat on the deck.Sort of.





	hey what do we title this

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a while back and didn't know where to go with it, but ladydawn graciously finished it off for me because I was writing myself in circles!

Despite what most may think, Meouch rather enjoyed the quiet. He rarely got any of that during the day, what with Sung’s constant chattering and all, but once the doctor turned in for the night, things really calmed down.

It was usually pretty late, but Meouch didn’t mind waiting. At around 1 AM, he padded down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. The weather had seemed nice enough earlier, so he set out for the deck as a place to sit.

It was nice to just sit there, getting lost in thought. He thought mostly about their upcoming shows, planning little jokes in his head to sprinkle throughout their performances. The crowd always seemed to love those, no matter how stupid they usually were.

He spent a good twenty minutes nursing his drink, and by the time it was empty, he was dozing off in his chair. He’d spent the night out there plenty of times before, so it was nothing for him to worry about. He’d be fine.

Before he could conk out completely, however, he heard the glass door slide open. He let out a questioning grunt as he glanced back towards the house, only to see the doctor himself stepping out. Meouch jolted at the sight, fully awake once again. Sung wasn’t wearing his helmet.

“God, if you’re gonna come out here so late, at least leave the fuckin’ cone on,” Meouch groaned, shaking his head. “You know that voodoo bullshit gives me the creeps.”

Sung scoffed. “I assure you that no ‘voodoo bullshit’ will be taking place, Commander. I just came out for some fresh air, is all.” He grabbed the bottle opener from the side table as he walked past Meouch-- he’d brought the remaining five of the six pack the commander had taken from. He took a seat in the empty lawn chair before he cracked a beer open for himself. “Plus, it’s not like I sleep with the thing on,” he added, “Don’t you ever take your mask off?”

“No,” Meouch replied rather quickly.

“I… don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it on.” Sung raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?”

“Maybe. What of it?”

“Just wondering, is all.” Sung paused to take a sip of his drink. “You know, when you live with someone for… however many years, you tend to wonder what their face looks like.”

“I never cared what your face looks like,” Meouch said with a shrug. “Don’t care about Phobos or Hogan’s, either. And neither of them have shown any signs of curiosity towards me. Does it matter?”

“Hm. Maybe it’s just me, then.”

They drank in silence for a bit, the only sounds they heard being the wind and the occasional car passing by.

“Why a lion?”

Meouch paused. He hadn’t expected the man to speak up again. “What?”

“Why did you pick the whole... lion look? Any significance?”

The Commander shrugged. “I dunno. I like lions. Why the cone?”

“Now, Commander, we’ve been over this,” Sung said with a chuckle. “But… a lion was a good choice, I think. It makes sense.”

Meouch spared the other man a glance. “How so?”

“Lions are a symbol of pride, of courage and strength. It suits you.”

Meouch shifted in his seat. That took him a bit by surprise. “Uh... thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

Another silent spell. Meouch was nearly done with his second drink before Sung spoke up again.

“You're not human, are you?” he asked.

“No,” Meouch replied curtly. “None of us are human, Doc, you know that.”

“Right of course, band of aliens from the future and all.” He took a small sip as he looked the Commander up and down. 

Meouch fidgeted under his calculating gaze.  
“...Why all the questions, anyway?”

“Oh, I was just... you know, I was thinking about a lot of things,” Sung answered. “And when I'm thinking like this, I have trouble falling asleep. I assumed you'd be out here again, so I came out for a chat.”

“And what, you thought I'd just be an open book all of a sudden?” Meouch asked. “I know I've been drinking, but not that much.”

The doctor shrugged. “I thought it’d be worth a shot.”

Meouch just scoffed. “You know, I don’t get why you haven’t just used your freaky powers on me yet. We both know you could pull all this right out of me at any time.”

“If I’m going to learn personal details about you, I want you to be okay with it,” Sung argued. “I do have morals, Commander.”

“You did it to Phobos. Didn't know if he was okay with it.”

At first, Sung was quiet. Carefully, he took another sip of his drink. “That was different.”

“Sure, sure.” Meouch rolled his eyes. He leaned back, put his feet up on the railing, and opened another drink. He sure was thinking about it now, there was no stopping that, and talking would probably do him some good. He’d been pulled into way too many drunken therapy sessions with the guy, he at least wanted to be somewhat sober for this one. “Alright, Doc. What do you wanna know?”

Sung raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected his friend to volunteer so easily. He took a moment to think about how exactly to phrase his inquiry. “You know I hide my face because... I don't want to throw people off, right?” Sung began. “My eyes, they… fuck with people's heads, and I can't always control it. And even if it's a harmless effect, it'll freak people out, you know?”

Meouch nodded. “I get what you're sayin’, yeah.”

“So I guess my first question would be... are you in a similar situation?”

Meouch gave the man an odd look. “I think if I had freaky eye powers, you’d know by now, man.”

Sung shook his head. “No, no, I mean, is it… is it something you’re hiding for the sake of others?” he asked. “Or is it for yourself?”

Meouch scoffed. “You really think I care what people think of me?”

Sung blinked. “Well… I think we all care what other people think, at least somewhat,” he said. “It’s only natural, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

The Commander seemed to think for a moment before he looked at Sung again. “You’re saying you care what people think of you?”

He shrugged. “I care what my friends think about me,” he answered. “Because you guys are important to me. But I know that _because_ we’re friends, you’re not going to fuss about anything that’s not worth fussing over.” A small smile crossed his face as he gazed up towards the starry sky. “I know I can be myself around here.”

Meouch gave himself a minute to think that over. It was true; by then, Sung hadn’t held anything back when it came to being himself. He’d told them everything, how he’d gotten to this point and the questionable things he’d done along the way. He told them about all the things he could do to people, his ways of persuasion and how he could wiggle his way into nearly anyone’s mind if he had a moment to do so. And despite his abilities, they all trusted him. He’d been so open with them, it was hard not to.

“You ever consider that maybe I’m just real secretive?” he suggested. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ to be… I dunno, mysterious.”

“So mysterious that you sleep with a mask on?” Sung asked. “I know you’re better than that.”

Meouch let out a huff. He was right. Sung knew him better than anyone else did at that point-- even Phobos. There was no point in keeping secrets when the guy could find out anything he wanted, anyway… even if he said he wouldn’t do so.

“My face isn’t somethin’ I wanna be looking at anymore.”

It seemed to come out of nowhere. Meouch wasn’t even sure what had brought him to say it. Sung had to take a moment to process his words.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for what must’ve been a good five minutes before Sung finally said something else.

“Why’s that?”

Meouch hesitated. He could go on with some sob story, pour his heart out, tell the Doc everything. He could just get it out of his system for the first time since it had all happened. But, really, he was just too tired for that.

“Burns.”

Sung frowned. “What?“

“Burns. And scars. On my face. Don’t like lookin’ at ‘em.” Meouch spared a glance towards Sung, and immediately regretted it. The guy looked like a sad puppy, and Meouch was quick to look back towards the horizon. “Next question, different topic.”

“Meouch, it’s okay,” Sung said, and Meouch made a face. He didn’t like hearing the man use his name, it was unfamiliar and weird. “I’m sure you look fine.”

“That’s not up to you to judge. We’re done talking about this.”

Sung made a little disgruntled noise, but decided to drop this issue for the moment.  
“You know, I have... some scars of my own,” Sung said, “From before we all got together.”

“Do you now?” Meouch asked, only half feigning interest.

“Yeah.” Sung pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the chair. Meouch thought it looked uncomfortable. “When I first installed the prismatic core, there was a lot of… trial and error. I still have electrical scarring all over my chest.”

Meouch glanced at the light that protruded from Sung’s armor. “Do they hurt?”

“Sometimes.” Sung shrugged. “When the core is acting up, anyway. Do yours ever hurt?”

He really wasn’t expecting a reply, but he was sure he heard Meouch mutter, “Sometimes.”

“I’m a little… embarrassed about my scars, admittedly,” Sung explained, “I know it’s a lot different, since it’s easier to cover up your chest than your face, but still. They were my own fault, all it would’ve taken was a few more tests before I actually put the thing in my body, and I would’ve been fine.” He let out a chuckle to spite himself. “But I couldn’t wait. Guess I got too excited.”

Meouch nodded, his gaze still trained on the doctor’s chest. He’d never really thought about it before-- he knew Sung had installed it himself, of course, but he never quite realized the implications of that. Was it really just _inside of his chest?_

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that too much.

“Mine, uh… well.” He scratched the back of his neck. “They weren’t really my fault, I guess.”

Doctor Sung went silent. Commander Meouch knew he was either going to follow the social cue of not asking any more questions or he was going to ignore it. Doctor Sung knew and he was smart, he knew so many things, but he still thirsted for more, damned the social cues.

“If not yours,” Doc said, “then whose fault?”

Commander Meouch took a long sip of his drink. “Someone I used to work with,” he said. Short, to the point, but without giving much away.

Everything became quiet again, the kind of quiet where you can feel something in the air, whether it was words unsaid or a breeze.

“If I had scars that weren’t my fault I’d still cover them up,” Doc said.

“Too many reminders,” Meouch agreed despite himself, his voice barely a breath. He finished his drink and grabbed another before Doc could add to it or ask him more. “So, symbols.”

“What about them?” Doc asked.

“Ah, yes, the cone,” Meouch began, holding up his drink and swirling it against the moonlight. Doc sighed, ragged breath. “A symbol of ‘stay the fuck away from this thing’.”

Doc let out a laugh, but not a true one. A fake laugh hiding a real, ever-so-slight pain. “You’ve already made that joke, man,” he said.

Since his fourth drink, he’d become mean. After the second and third, they went fast. “Since when are we not joke repeaters?” Meouch said.

“I just wanted to know about you,” Doc said.

Meouch laughed. “No one wants to know about me,” he said. “No one’s wanted to know me then and no one wants to know me now.”

“You know what? The difference now is that you have friends that actually give a damn about your well-being, not some stupid payday.”

Meouch had nothing to say to that. Doc gripped his drink, knuckles white, and got up. He was about to walk back into the house when Meouch looked behind him to see if the coast was clear.

“They’re from when I smuggled,” he said. “They’re from when Phobos tried to kill me.”

Did Doc stop? Meouch could still feel another presence on the deck.

“Will you ever tell us about that?”

Doc had stopped. Meouch could tell he was still facing the door.

“Not in this lifetime.”

Meouch heard the sliding door open then close again.


End file.
